


Lay It On Me

by Lizzyboo



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: A little bit of angst, But Mostly Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 20:06:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12942786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizzyboo/pseuds/Lizzyboo
Summary: 'Most of the time, he didn’t think about it much, at least not in a bad way. He liked to analyze those dreams the day after, sitting with Dan on the couch and telling him about the monsters that hunted him the night before. Monsters that seemed quite silly in the day light, ridiculous even. And they would laugh about it and Dan would call him a spoon or a spork with a fond smile and that would be the end of it.But sometimes, the dreams were different.'_______________________Phil has a nightmare and Dan is there for comfort





	Lay It On Me

**Author's Note:**

> based on a prompt from tumblr: 
> 
> mandanmand said:  
> One can never have too many warm and fluffy comfort/caring fics, especially dan comforting/caring for phil <3 (I love them the other way around too if that's more to your liking)

He didn’t wake up with a jolt like he usually did after a nightmare. 

He woke up slowly, gradually. Could feel his body leave the stillness and haze of unconsciousness before opening his eyes to a dark room. 

His muscles were tense and stiff and he could still see the details of his dream in front of his eyes, like maybe he was still there, maybe it was all real. 

He was no stranger to restless nights and bad dreams. He always had an overactive imagination, always had hard time shutting his brain up, even while sleeping. He’s dreams tended to be stressful most nights and sometimes even plain horrifying. 

Most of the time, he didn’t think about it much, at least not in a bad way. He liked to analyze those dreams the day after, sitting with Dan on the couch and telling him about the monsters that hunted him the night before. Monsters that seemed quite silly in the day light, ridiculous even. And they would laugh about it and Dan would call him a spoon or a spork with a fond smile and that would be the end of it. 

But sometimes, the dreams were different. Sometimes it wasn’t that easy to separate the dream world from the real one, to wake up and know it was all okay now because the nightmare was over. 

It usually was a different variation of the same dream. Sometimes about his parents or brother, sometimes about his friends, sometimes about Dan. 

Sometimes it was because of a car crush, sometimes because of an illness, sometimes with no explanation at all. But he never got used to it. Never knew how to handle to loss, no matter how many nights he’d experienced it.

When he was a kid, he used to sneak out of his room on nights like this and creep into his parents’ bedroom, watch them sleep and try to count their breaths in his head, making sure they were alive and well. 

Sometimes he would go to Martyn’s room, and Martyn would wake up because he was a light sleeper and call him a creep for watching him sleep but would never fail to lift up his duvet and let him stay in his bed for the night, let him put his finger on his neck to feel his steady pulse, just in case. 

But it has been years since he’d done that. Years since he left his childhood home and build himself a home of his own. Years since he had to leave his bed at night to find comfort. 

He looked to his right, staring at the human shape lump under the covers next to him. He could see a bit of Dan’s face, hair messy and covering most of it from view. Under the faint light from the window Dan’s skin looked a little too grey, a little too familiar in the worst of ways, and Phil could feel his insides squeezed by an imaginary fist. It was all still too vivid. 

But Dan’s chest was rising and falling and Phil could hear the sound of his heavy, deep breathing in the silence of the room and logically, he did know it was all just a dream. 

But still, his heart was racing and he could feel grief settle deep in his core, feeling the pain of his dream self. Because even though it wasn’t real, he still felt it, and that was real enough for him. 

He reached out to touch Dan’s cheek, to move the hair from his forehead and feel the warmth of his skin under his fingertips, so different from the cold feeling that was still so vivid in his memory. 

Dan stirred, smacking his lips and turning a little to Phil’s direction, but Phil’s chest still felt heavy and tight. 

He needed to see Dan’s brown eyes looking at his, hear his sleepy voice. He needed something, anything, because he knew it wasn’t real, knew that Dan was next to him. He was alive and well and he could hear the air going in and out of Dan’s slightly ajar mouth and it wasn’t real. 

But, what if it was? 

“Dan,” he whispered quietly, because even though he wanted to wake Dan up it still felt wrong to disturb the quite of the night. 

Dan moved again, mumbling something incoherent that sounded a lot like “piss off,” but Phil wasn’t sure. Always so grumpy when he woke up. 

He let his hand glide from Dan’s cheek to his bare shoulder, inching closer and rubbing Dan’s upper arm a little to get him to wake up. 

“What time is it?” Dan grumbled, swatting Phil’s hand away from him and burying himself deeper inside the duvet. 

Phil looked at his night stand, finding his Phone and squinting at it to try and see without his glasses. 

“4: 30.”

“PM?” Dan suddenly jolted, looking at Phil with round eyes, and Phil couldn’t help but giggle, feeling some of the tension seep away from his body with the sound. 

“No, AM,” he answered, hearing Dan’s exaggerated moan and watching his body physically deflate. 

“Why the fuck are you waking me up at 4:30 AM?” he asked, already closing his eyes again, but not moving from Phil, which made Phil’s heart swell a little. 

“Just had a bad dream,” he said it casually, shrugging his shoulders a little, but he knew Dan would get it. He always did. 

He didn’t feel bad for waking Dan up. They’ve been together long enough, were there for each other through all of it and he knew for a fact Dan would never be mad at Phil for needing him. 

Dan’s eyes opened again and looked at Phil through a sleep haze. He was close enough that Phil could see the small creases around his eyes and the soft of his lips even without his glasses and he could still feel how much it hurt to lose this. 

 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Dan asked and his voice was soft now, sympathetic, and he reached out and put his hand on the back of Phil’s head, letting his blunt fingernails scratch at his scalp absentmindedly. 

And something about this casual touch made Phil feel like he was about to break down completely. The way Dan’s hand found its way to his head even in his sleepy state, the way his fingers knew what to do and how to touch exactly the way he liked it, exactly the way that always helped calm him down when he was upset, made all his emotions rise to the surface and threaten to leak from his eyes. 

“Not really,” he managed to say, and his voice wasn’t stable and he could feel his insides turning again because even though it was a dream the feelings were still real, and there was no point in downplaying it in front of Dan. 

Dan let his hand slide from his head to his back, pulling to get him closer. Phil went willingly, eagerly, settling in the crook of Dan’s neck, letting his cold nose nuzzle against the warm skin, breathing in deeply the scent of sweat and sleep and Dan. 

Dan tangled their legs together, nudging his knee in-between Phil’s and wrapping him in both his arms tightly, holding him close.

Phil could feel one of Dan’s hands wandering on his body, going from his back to his shoulder and then down to his hand, taking it and guiding it to his chest, flattening his fingers above his heart and holding it there.

And Phil couldn’t stop the small watery laugh that came out of his lips, because Dan knew him so well it was almost ridiculous. He knew him so well that Phil didn’t have to tell him what his deepest, darkest fears were anymore. Didn’t have to explain what his worst nightmares were about.

Sometimes, they could help each other silently, gently, without the need to explain what was wrong or apologize for being a burden. They both learned to accept the other’s help long ago, welcoming it and seeking it in times of need. 

Phil could feel Dan’s steady heartbeat under the palm of his hand, could feel the rise and fall of Dan’s chest and could hear the soft huffs and puffs of air in his hair, could feel soft lips pecking the top of his head again and again until his body melted against the warmth of Dan’s body. 

He would still think about this dream tomorrow. Maybe even think about it for the next few days. Those dreams had a tendency to stay with him long after he’d woken up, settling somewhere at the back of his head and bothering him at the least convenient moments. 

But for now, he’d let himself be lulled back to sleep by the feeling of Dan’s hand drawing patterns on his back and arm and shoulder and hope that in the morning they’ll wake just like this, 

Warm and wrapped up together and pressed closely and alive.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! hope you liked it :)  
> please leave a comment and tell me what you think!  
> you can also send me prompts on tumblr if you want (phantasticlizzy)


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